12/26/2025
It is traditional to share ghost stories at Christmas, so here is a tale set on the edge of Cannnock Chase from the early Victorian age. Cut some stilton, decant yourself a drop of port and enjoy – crackling log fire optional.
We are at Hatherton Hall, a grade 2 listed mansion first built in 1817. Now largely rebuilt it was previously the ancestral pile of the Hathertons – about whom this tale concerns.
Baron Hatherton was entertaining a group of friends one Christmas Eve at the Hall, a raucous gathering in his “sports room” - stuffed trophies, billiards table, etc – with whisky flowing freely. It was an all male affair as the men's wives had gone out to attend a carol service, but the banter ground to a halt when one of the men held an object up to inspect. It was a human skull, fashioned into a drinking goblet.
“Hatherton, what on earth have you here?” demanded the man. “On what sort of occasion would you use this goblet of such a disturbing form?”
The host explained. The skull had belonged to his 14th century ancestor Sir Hugh de Hathertone and had been discovered during excavations at the site of an old private chapel on his land. The head was found separate from the body and Hatherton thought it a wheeze to line the skull with silver and make it into a drinking vessel. He loudly proclaimed that wine never tasted as good as it did from this macabre goblet and proceeded to pour each guest in turn a draught to glug down, then raised the skull high in a toast.
"Let us drink to the health of Sir Hugh, and have him know that we would gladly have him here with us tonight if only to surrender his head to him!”
At that the grandfather clock in the room struck twelve and a silence fell upon the gathering. The men became aware of a thumping sound in the hall, growing louder. A metallic thud thud thud, increasing in speed until suddenly – the door to the study burst open. There, paused for a moment, was the figure of a fully armoured medieval knight – headless! The shape marched on, clanking into the room as the men stood in shock. It walked straight up to the table the drinks were served on and upended it, sending decanter and glasses alike crashing to the floor.
As Hatherton and his guests gasped in unison, the spectral knight turned heel and marched back out, with the door slamming behind it. The men looked at each other then sprang into action, released from their shocked inertia. Wrenching the door open they ran into the hall, with Lord Hatherton bellowing to his butler to intercept the intruder.
At that moment a commotion broke out at the front door as the ladies returned from their evening out. Their husbands ran straight to them, calling to beware of the armoured figure, and amid the chaos the headless knight vanished.
As brandy and whisky were poured to calm the nerves and the tale was related to the returning ladies, the mood relaxed and all became quiet in Hatherton hall that Christmas Eve. In the morning one of the guests and his wife opened their French windows onto the gardens to hear the nearby church bells ring out for Christmas Day and they gazed out over the frost covered lawn.
Then they noticed something curious. A set of huge footprints led across the frozen grass from the house to the woods beyond and, calling the others to join in, they followed them. Halfway across the lawn something lay in the frost and the man picked it up. It was a roughly rolled ball of solid silver!
Hatherton came out and told how his skull goblet was missing, then he realised what had happened. His ancestor Sir Hugh had marched in at their drunken invitation and reclaimed his skull, but his chivalric code forbade him from stealing the silver around it, and so he had pulled it off, rolled it up and dropped it here. Lord Hatherton took the silver lump and kept it in the hall, and legend claims it is still there today.
